


Only Water

by Jalules



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Dacryphilia, Established Relationship, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Pesterlog, Sexual Content, Shame
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-13
Updated: 2011-12-13
Packaged: 2017-10-27 06:40:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,544
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/292744
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jalules/pseuds/Jalules
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Karkat is right beside him, curled up and crying quietly, breathing in and out in near silent, shaky breaths and god, he’s so much more perfect than Liv Tyler."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Or, in which John has a crying fetish.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Only Water

-ectoBiologist began pestering turntechGodhead-

EB: hey dave?  
EB: hey can i talk to you about something?  
EB: like a sort of serious thing?  
TG: yeah sure man let me pull up my serious chair  
EB: no i mean really serious, not serious chair serious.  
TG: whoa shit alright  
TG: whats up man is everything okay  
EB: oh wow yeah, no, everything’s fine. sorry, that must have sounded really dramatic, haha!  
TG: …  
EB: sorry dave, i’m just a little bit um  
EB: freaked out right now, i guess? it’s not anything bad, i just think i’m weird or something.  
TG: weird  
EB: yeah, weird. like, in a kind of crazy way.  
TG: i really dont think your crazy  
EB: but i’m thinking some pretty crazy stuff!  
TG: john  
TG: john did you eat the shaving cream again  
TG: you know what it does to you bro  
EB: haha, dave, stop! i’m like, kind of actually freaking myself out a little… :(  
TG: then stop saying haha like a jackass and talk to me youre makin me worry man  
EB: sorry.  
EB: it’s just kind of an awkward thing. like, a sex kind of awkward thing.  
TG: yeah alright that is a pretty awkward thing right there  
TG: go on  
EB: umm…..  
EB: it’s just this weird thing.  
EB: where i’m turned on when karkat cries i think????  
TG: huh  
EB: huh???  
EB: what’s that supposed to mean???  
TG: egbert calm down with those question marks man you dont even have enough for the whole class  
TG: and the huh is just a huh  
EB: ….  
EB: well do you think i’m crazy?  
TG: depends  
TG: what kind of crying are we talkin about here  
EB: um. the kind where TEARS come out of his eyes???  
EB: that’s not a normal thing people are turned on by at all!  
TG: no dumpass i mean why is he crying  
TG: like because his pet goldfish died or because you backhanded him  
EB: oh my god dave, i would never!  
TG: are you all hot and bothered because hes a hurtin buckaroo like i mean  
TG: are you a sadist or something  
EB: no! that’s awful!!!  
TG: dont knock it man some people are hardcore into that stuff  
EB: ugh.  
EB: i just like  
EB: get really turned on when he cries at sad movies and stuff.  
EB: not that i want him to be sad, it’s just that he looks so cute when he cries and it’s like, he’s showing a different side than he usually does and um…  
EB: sorry this is really weird to be talking about isn’t it?  
TG: absolutely  
TG: but no i dont think youre crazy  
TG: is it just trollboy or is there a whole smorgasbord or weepy ladydudes that turn your crank  
EB: umm…  
TG: …  
EB: well i guess i like seeing girls on tv cry too?  
TG: girls on tv and karkat  
EB: yes?  
TG: yeah i mean i could be wrong its happened before but i dont think theres anything wrong with you man  
TG: youve just got a weird kink  
EB: a…crying kink?  
TG: dacryphilia  
TG: just googled it  
TG: i know my genius is staggering sometimes using the internet to look up weird sexual fetishes and shit oh man slow down i dont think i can keep up with all these great ideas  
EB: dacryphilia?  
TG: did i stutter  
TG: also hold up youre missing this class a third degree burn im dishin

-

-

-

They’re watching Lord of the Rings, The Two Towers, and Liv Tyler as Arwen is crying on screen.

She’s not really an emotional crier, but she’s beautiful and John is kind of more transfixed by her than usual as she says her tearful goodbyes.

Karkat is curled in a ball at the corner of the couch, clutching a pillow as he stares at the screen like it holds all the secrets of the universe.

He’d started out the evening complaining that if John was so interested in watching a movie with his whore of an imaginary matesprit in it (he’s just jealous, he should know he’s the only troll for him,) they could at least watch Jersey Girl, but once John got him started on the first Lord of the Rings installment, he was nearly clambering to see more of the story unfold.

Now the two of them are content with their second movie of the day, though John thinks, a little guiltily, maybe for different reasons.

Karkat is enraptured by the intertwining and tragic relationships of the characters and says little as he studies their interactions. John, on the other hand, is not so much interested in the movie (he’s seen it before,) but by Liv Tyler.

Or, okay, not by Liv Tyler. Gorgeous and wonderful as she is, he kind of got over that crush a while ago. More like, he’s interested in her crying.

Which is really weird, haha, he knows, totally weird, which is why he hasn’t mentioned it to anyone since, you know, heh, he doesn’t really want to seem any weirder than he is…hah.

Haha.

Except he really does feel pretty weird.

Crying sort of catches his attention, not just in the usual way, making him feel sorry for people or like he wants to comfort them, though he does feel that too. More like, he gets these urges.

Weird urges. Like, sexual ones. And he’s never thought of himself as a pervert or anything but, you know, when Arwen is on screen with tears rolling down her cheeks, John’s pants are actually feeling a little tight.

Which is horrible. He knows. He’s horrible.

But it’s not like he’s ever going to actually meet Liv Tyler and see her cry so, you know, no harm no foul, right?

Embarrassed even though no one knows what kind of nonsense is going on in his head, John shifts further back on the alchemized couch and looks over to Karkat, smiling in a lopsided way, asks softly, “Heheh, so is this romantic enough for you?”

But the smile freezes right on his face as he really looks at Karkat.

The light of the television in the dark room has his face illuminated, the shadows under his eyes standing out darker than ever, his yellow eyes seeming almost green in the blueish glow, and every wet highlight of the tears running down his cheeks stands out like a red flag. A pink flag, maybe, considering the washed out color.

John swallows hard as his stomach does the strangest little flip.

Karkat doesn’t look at him but flinches, knowing he’s noticed, “Shut up.”

“But I didn’t-“

“Shut the fuck up, Egbert. Just watch the goddamn movie.”

He’s seen Karkat cry before, over his friends when he was worried, over Titanic, The Notebook, Romeo and Juliet, and okay, yeah, even John teared up a little at that one. When Karkat cried around him the troll tried to hide it, brushed the tears away, pulled a blanket over his head just to keep himself out of sight.

John had never let himself dwell on it much.

But now he is and it’s amazing. Karkat is always adorable in John’s eyes, sure, but he’s so used to seeing him gruff and angry and stomping around, baring his fangs, waving his fists, that a moment of softness is always interesting.

But this is more than interesting, it’s sort of…arousing.

Karkat is right beside him, curled up and crying quietly, breathing in and out in near silent, shaky breaths and god, he’s so much more perfect than Liv Tyler.

When he cries his eyebrows knit together just so, his cheeks and the tip of his nose going pink as he holds in the sound trying to get out-

John wants to hear it so bad.

He tries to watch the movie, really he does, but with Karkat right there, it’s hard to keep his eyes on the screen.

Instead he watches Karkat. Watches his fingers clench in the pillow he’s holding, watches his shoulders shake ever so slightly, watches a fat pink tear roll slowly down his cheek until he finds himself leaning over, over, putting his hands on the couch cushion between them to balance himself as he presses his lips to the tear on Karkat’s cheek.

The troll goes stiff as a board and John pulls away quickly, not sure if he’s done something wrong, not really caring because there’s salt on his lips and Karkat is staring at him with wide, watering eyes and his pants are seriously too tight now but he tries to hide it.

“…what the fuck was that for?” Karkat asks, not quite accusatory, maybe shocked.

And John shrugs awkwardly. He can’t exactly explain himself, can he?

Karkat stares at him, caught up in thought and looking a little like he did the night John brought over a bouquet of purple roses on Jade’s suggestion.

Like he had won the boyfriend jackpot or something.

“Egbert,” He pauses, considers, “You…surprise me sometimes,” He leans in and kisses John softly on the mouth.

They lose the end of the film in a series of gentle kisses that aren’t quite what John had in mind, but what he did have in mind is just, wow, not okay at all, so he’ll keep it to himself and just, you know, maybe take care of, um, the pants problem later.

He shocks himself when he really does it.

Late that night, when Karkat has gone back to his own room, John remembers the taste of Karkat’s tears, replays the memory of him crying in his head, builds off of it into a fantasy of Karkat clinging, begging, imagines how badly his breath would hitch if they fucked while he was crying and it gets him off like nothing has before.

He laughs it off to himself afterward, murmurs under his breath that he’s just being super weird, that his brain does some pretty crazy stuff sometimes, and goes to bed feeling out of sorts.

-

-

-

EB: so there’s a fetish for crying?   
TG: yeah man theres a fetish for everything   
EB: well at least i’m not the only one i guess…   
TG: dude its not even that weird   
EB: what no way, it’s totally weird! people shouldn’t like, get off on people being sad!   
EB: it’s just kind of sick…   
TG: wow okay are we going back to the not a homosexual fiasco   
EB: no!   
TG: because it sounds a fuckload of a lot like that   
TG: oh woe is me im john egbert and i wanna bone my friendleader but im not a homosexual   
EB: dave youre being kind of mean.   
TG: sorry man just stating facts   
TG: you keep trapping yourself up in being afraid of what you feel or something when you should probably just fucking go for it   
TG: i know people say to listen to your head and not your dick but the two of them seem like theyre in cahoots on this one   
TG: besides it worked out pretty well last time   
EB: well yeah but…karkat was okay with me thinking about him in that way from the start. i don’t think he’d be okay with this…   
TG: why not   
EB: because it’s weird! and i feel really bad about it.   
EB: i mean i keep getting all these really sad movies just to watch him cry. how messed up is that?

-

-

-

They sit down to watch Finding Neverland.

Not because John is really all that into it or even because he’s heard it’s a good movie, but because he knows it’s sad.

The lady dies at the end, and it’s based on a true story, which means that some lady that some man loved really did die and leave her children without a mother, which is almost enough to make John cry.

Almost.

It’s absolutely enough to make Karkat cry though and John is counting on that.

He’s not proud of this.

Karkat curls up against his side the way John has encouraged him to while they watch the movie.

It had taken some fighting to get to their current position and John has a pretty nasty bite mark on his left hand from getting his fingers too close to Karkat’s mouth during the scuffle, but it doesn’t really hurt that much.

They cuddle up together under Karkat’s favorite blanket and when he’s de-grumped enough to focus, he mentions that the film is a remarkably good try at portraying moirallegiance in human media. John says that he isn’t sure that’s what they were going for, but yeah, he guesses he’s got a point.

He sits and he waits patiently, and really it is a pretty good movie so it’s not hard to sit through, but he’s waiting for the end, waiting for the tearjerking climactic scene and he knows that’s seriously messed up, he’s got to stop doing this, but-

There. There it is.

The kids in the movie put on a play for their dying mother. They laugh and dance and the lighting is beautiful, angelic, golden all around and on screen Kate Winslet’s eyes well up with tears which would be distracting all on its own because she’s an awfully pretty woman, but John keeps his focus. He looks to Karkat. He feels his heart lift at the sight of pink brimming up around the troll’s eyes.

He’s so much prettier than Kate Winslet and he can’t tell him or he’d flip right the fuck off the handle.

By the next scene the female lead is dying, the music swells, and against his shoulder John can feel Karkat take in a shuddering breath.

My god he is so awful just waiting for this to happen, he should give up his rights as a hero because no hero could possibly do this to their boyfriend, think about him like this even, it’s just so bad.

He’s practically a villain and it makes him sick, but Karkat’s got tears on his cheeks now and John can already feel himself getting hard.

He half-watches Karkat cry through the bittersweet end of the movie, lets the credits roll for a minute before turning it off, dropping them into darkness and silence and Karkat breathes out a quiet, “Shit.

And he’s off. Ranting, crying, telling John that he pities him more than anything, loves him even, in the fucked up human way, that he would be lost without him and he’s his whole world and all these other cheesy, romantic things that make John’s chest feel tight, bring a flush to his cheeks.

And those tears-

He kisses them off of Karkat’s cheeks like he’s done before, licks a few up even, whispers that he loves him too and he’s not lying, not even close, but he still feels like some kind of a dirty cheat as they kiss, as he slips his hands up Karkat’s shirt and listens to him ramble off a list of how many things are just amazing about him, answers back with a list of his own and Karkat cannot stop crying.

John palms his bulge through his pants while he gasps in a breath, lets it out in a shudder, a squeak. He watches Karkat fight to stop the embarrassing display, feels the bite of his claws when he puts his arms around him, moans shakily into his neck. He kisses him quiet and works a hand into his hair, rubs the base of one horn until Karkat is a complete mess, whimpering through tears and shivering and coming all over himself.

He gives him an eskimo kiss and figures out a few minutes later that having Karkat suck him off while he’s still got tear tracks drying on his cheeks is pretty much the hottest thing ever. Clearly he is the one who’s won the boyfriend jackpot here.

When they sprawl on the couch together John only feels a little bad, and that worries him.

-

-

-

TG: alright when you say it like that it does sound pretty messed up   
TG: but seriously bro its probably nothing to worry about   
TG: you probably just feel like shit about it because youre sneaking around with this thing behind his back   
TG: like youve got a package from fetishes express and the box is fucking giant but you wont let him see it   
TG: so you have to keep moving it around the house and hiding it under shit   
TG: but theres only so long you can keep a giant goddamn box under a coat before somebody notices   
EB: dave are you like, speaking from personal experience here?   
TG: what   
TG: nah man im just saying   
TG: its only gonna get harder to deal with unless you tell him whats going on   
TG: shit like that is hard to hide   
EB: yeah i guess…   
EB: i’m kind of surprised he hasn’t noticed yet. i’m not that good at being sneaky about it anyway, and i   
EB: well i did something really bad the other night   
TG: aw shit   
TG: dish man come on im hanging on your every word like a bored housewife at a beauty parlor

-

-

-

How could he not?

He knows it’s wrong and he’s seriously so ashamed of himself he could just die, but Karkat did sort of offer to stay the night in his room which is a suggestion that lends itself to things that they never did get around to before passing out for the evening and…and how could he not?

When Karkat jerks awake beside him in bed, breathing hard and gasping out some awful little whimpering growl of a noise, like a wild, wounded animal, John wakes up too and even without his glasses on he can see how hard the troll’s chest is heaving, how wet his eyes are-

He can’t help himself.

Without a word, John reaches over to the small, boxy table beside his bed, grabbing his glasses and slipping them awkwardly back into place on the bridge of his nose.

With his vision corrected, the tear tracks are obvious, even in the dark, there’s pale pink all down Karkat’s cheeks and the tears are still coming.

“…bad dream?”

Karkat sniffles, takes in a quick raspy breath, nods quickly. His eyes are narrowed as if in pain, pointed teeth digging into his lower lip in an effort to keep quiet.

This is probably super embarrassing, John gets that. Most people don’t wake up screaming from nightmares when they’re well into their teenaged years. But Karkat isn’t most people, he guesses.

Ever since the destruction of their home planet, all the trolls have struggled with the lack of sopor slime to some degree, and from what he understands, Karkat has kept a pretty good handle on himself.

Still, when a really powerful negative thought or impulse hits him during sleep, even with one of the sopor-substitute filled pillows they’ve engineered resting under his head, soothing his overactive mind, Karkat can get overwhelmed.

John has seen him jolt awake before, search the room with wide, glowing eyes like there’s someone out to get him. He’s talked about some of the dreams before, after a lot of pushing and prodding and threats to tickle the information out of him, and even descriptions of the less terrifying dreams left John shaken. Trolls are…disturbing.

But John has never seen Karkat wake from a dream so frightening it left him in tears before, and he wishes he could devote more attention to sympathizing with him. He feels bad, he really does, and the urge to grab Karkat and wrap him up in blankets and hug him better is definitely there, but it’s edging along his mind neck and neck with the desire to lick the tears from his cheeks, to push him down and frot against him, fondle him through his borrowed boxers and listen to the soft hic, hic, shudder of his sobs.

Oh man what is wrong with him?

“Aw, those are the worst. C’mere.”

“No.”

“Karkat…”

“Sh-shut up, Egbert.”

“Don’t be like that, just c’mere and let me hug you!”

The initial protest was just for show, to prove he’s not too weak, and after a moment’s shuffling and rearranging, Karkat has pressed himself into John’s side, his arms wrapped around himself, then wrapped around John’s midsection as he presses his face into his shirt.

He can feel the wetness of tears soaking through the fabric and has to take a deep breath, get a hold of himself. He puts his arms around Karkat in a gentle hug, rubbing his shoulder lightly, “Wanna talk about it?”

“Fuck off.”

John would be okay with that, really. He’s not all that eager to hear another freaky troll dream, and he’s pretty sure if he just kissed Karkat now, he’d be able to transition them into sex in like, two minutes, he’s done it before-

Aw man.

Aw man he is just…deplorable. He’s kind of disgusted with himself, seriously.

He hugs Karkat a little tighter, nuzzles into the other’s hair, careful of his horns, “We don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to.”

But apparently that’s the signal to start talking as fast as possible because when Karkat starts explaining, it’s in a rush, a terrified flood of words that John can hardly follow but he gets the words executed and pain, then something about my friends and culling drones and fucking awful mutant blood, a babble that sounds like hurt so fucking much and it wouldn’t stop.

He has no idea what Karkat is talking about, doesn’t know why he was strung up in his dream or why Gamzee was in it or why he couldn’t wake up until the tip of a harpoon was thrust through his throat. He doesn’t try to explain it, just keeps rubbing Karkat’s shoulder and, when he starts to calm down, stops talking in such a rush, kisses his temple.

“F-fucking hate this shit,” Karkat grumbles, voice hitching, and the sound makes John’s heart thump, thump, thump like it’s trying to break out of his chest and strangle him with how bad it wants to be beating faster, working harder.

“It’s okay,” he reassures him, and Karkat cries quieter and harder all at the same time, “Nobody’s going to hurt you. I promise!” He smiles one of those wide, goofy smiles that Karkat says are insufferable and nauseatingly handsome, leans back to beam at the troll.

Karkat looks up at him with blurry eyes, sniffs once, and something in John twists so suddenly, he can’t stop himself.

He leans in close again and catches Karkat in a kiss, feels him breath in one of those quick hiccup breaths and nearly groans.

“I’ve got you,” he murmurs against his lips, and Karkat melts against him, whimpers back a noise of understanding.

And it’s so easy, way too easy, to work from there. He never wanted to be a manipulative person, no matter how much Vriska encouraged him, but when he tugs Karkat’s shirt up over his head and licks a teardrop up from where it’s run into the hollow of his throat, he feels like he’s practically a manipulation master.

Vriska would be proud. Nic Cage and Superman and all the other heroes of the world would not.

He looks up as Karkat speaks haltingly, “I d-don’t know how y-you do this.”

He furrows his brow, confused and irrationally afraid that he somehow knows what he’s up to, “Do what?”

And Karkat scoffs a laugh through the tears, sending a jolt down John’s spine and straight to his groin, “Th-this. I must look like a fu-fuckin- fucking mm-mess.”

John bites the inside of his mouth to keep from moaning at the way Karkat stumbles over the words, how his voice rises to a near whine so different from his usual tone.

He sits up straighter and kisses his forehead, smiles lopsidedly, “You look perfect.”

He really does mean it, but damn, those one-liners get Karkat every time.

The troll hiccups out another sob, digs his nails into John’s skin since his shirt is long gone and hopefully the pants will be too in a minute, “St-stop being so fu-fucking nice to me, b-bulgebiter.”

“Haha, you know I’m not really gonna bite it,” he teases, and Karkat’s face goes redder beneath the already present splotches of color that rose as he cried.

“You’re s-so st-stupid!”

“You’re so cute,” he says in response, and slips a hand low down Karkat’s stomach, under the waistband of his boxers and grins as he gasps, bucks up a little, “You really are, Karkat.”

“F-fuck you,” the troll snarls, but the words are broken, lost in a gasp of pleasure and a sob of residual terror.

“I like your blood color,” John murmurs in his ear, feels Karkat’s face go hot.

It’s his trump card. Especially after a nightmare, which usually involves some kind of situation where Karkat’s mutant blood becomes an issue and from the few parts of the dream he caught, this one was no exception. He likes to remind Karkat that his blood doesn’t even matter anymore, that there’s nothing wrong with it, with him. He reminds him whenever the thought strikes him anyway and right now, with Karkat already an emotional mess, just the mention of it tips him back into shallow breaths in and out, shakey little sniffles that become harsher as John strokes him, wiggles out of his own pajama bottoms and looks like a total doofus doing it, as usual.

He leans Karkat back and only feels like kind of a creep as he pulls his boxers down, pushes them aside on the bed and covers Karkat’s body with his own, shivering from head to toe at the feel of tears smearing against his cheek, keeps murmuring the sweetest things to keep Karkat crying, keep him on edge.

He asks if he can touch his nook because he always needs permission for that.

And after a few kisses he gets it.

Karkat used to say he wasn’t really a nook kind of guy, just like John said he wasn’t so sure he was into, you know, um, anal or, uh, anything like that. But the more they mess around and fall in some deep, deep kind of love, the less he seems intimidated by experimenting a little.

John would be lying if he said Karkat’s nook wasn’t one of his favorite things to play with, same as he’d be lying if he said he didn’t like it when Karkat fucked him really slow and gentle and nipped at the shell of his ear because yeah, that was kind of really hot and he just had to come to terms with the fact that his boyfriend had boy parts and they could do gay sex things and he could like them a lot.

Just like he had to come to terms with the fact that Karkat looked incredibly sexy when he cried, that maybe he just had a thing for crying.

Except that’s almost as embarrassing a notion as owning up to his homosexual interests in the first place so maybe not.

Maybe he’ll just keep it to himself and silently enjoy the look on Karkat’s face as he slips a finger up into his nook and watch him squirm and close his eyes tight, try to hold back a few stray tears.

It’s all sort of foolproof, since once Karkat starts crying it’s really hard for him to stop, and once they start having sex, he can’t control himself at all and the crying just gets worse.

He’s crying really hard as John thrusts into him, gentle and careful and knowing he’s not hurting him because he asks, receives the most adorable, tearful, “N-no, you’re good, godyou’regood, I’m just be-being fucking stu-p-pid,” in response.

“Shh, no you’re not,” John murmurs, half-laughing and probably too cheerful in comparison but he’s almost giddy at how perfect this is.

Karkat huffs, growls, gasps as John starts up a steady rhythm and soon he’s clinging to him, keeping as close as can be and working his own hips, kissing John’s neck, cursing under his breath and in between sobs.

“I’m s-sorry,” he pants, “I s-seriously can’t st-stop.”

The sentence ends in a whine that leaves John damn near tingling all over. He shakes his head, “It’s okay, r-really, it’s okay,” So much more than okay, it’s amazing. Feeling Karkat’s quick breaths when they’re chest to chest, tasting tears when they kiss, it pushes him to the edge faster than usual and he has to hurriedly reach up to grab one of Karkat’s horns, ignoring the way the troll curses him for it when he twists, rubs, brings Karkat to climax with him.

They lay wrapped up in each other, breathing hard, nuzzling against one another, and finally Karkat’s crying tapers down to nothing. When he looks at John his eyes are tired and heavy lidded.

“Thanks for…for putting up with that,” he says, sounding positively drained.

John’s heart plummets.

Realization hits him like a truck and his stomach twists uncomfortably. He’s not just mooching off of Karkat’s tears, he’s actually making him feel worse about himself.

He is, officially, scum.

He doesn’t respond, only kissing the troll’s forehead quickly.

He decides to pester Dave about it tomorrow, because god knows he couldn’t talk about this thing in person.

-

-

-

TG: damn   
TG: alright then egbert you get the dark horse award for seriously uncomfortable sex talk   
EB: i’m sorry!!!   
TG: you have seriously got to tell him what the fuck is going on in your head   
EB: but how do i tell him? it’s so weird, i can’t just blurt it out. he probably won’t get it!   
TG: you dont know that maybe hes secretly desperate for some hot crying action   
EB: dave.   
TG: egbert   
EB: …   
EB: but what if he freaks out?   
TG: so he freaks out thats basically karkats entire life isnt it   
EB: haha, kinda. but i mean, i don’t wanna scare him away or anything.   
EB: i really love him, dave.   
TG: i know man   
TG: you flutter your eyelashes and tell me about it down by the water cooler every goddamn day   
TG: but i mean it   
TG: if he freaks out then he freaks out no big   
TG: you guys have worked through weird shit before right   
EB: i guess…   
EB: but that was more just because of us both being boys.   
EB: and then the whole, um, biology thing…   
TG: right weird shit   
EB: right…   
EB: so…   
TG: so just tell him already   
EB: but what if he’s mad because i was being kind of, you know, sneaky this whole time?   
TG: then hes mad bro you gotta own up to what you did   
EB: right…   
TG: …   
TG: dude just go talk to him your killin me with this hesitation   
EB: alright, alright! i’ll tell him. just, if it doesn’t go well i don’t know what i’ll do.   
TG: itll be fine   
TG: and if its not you can come chill with me and drown your sorrows in sweet music   
EB: haha. okay dave. thanks.   
TG: oh also   
TG: just for curiosities sake   
TG: why did you bring this weird fetish shit up with me of all people???   
EB: ummmm…….because you’re my best friend?   
TG: alright   
EB: why?   
TG: just checking   
EB: ?   
TG: just makin sure its not for any other reason   
TG: like that rose told you i was the foremost authority on fetishes or something   
TG: cause im not   
EB: um. okay?   
TG: whatever man forget about it just good luck with that sexy saltwater fascination   
EB: haha, okay.   
EB: good luck learning about more fetishes!!!   
EB: hehehehe!   
TG: goddamn it egbert

-ectoBiologist ceased pestering turntechGodhead-

-

-

-

John tells Karkat that he thinks maybe they should skip the movie tonight. He’s being nervous and not nearly as smiley as usual and Karkat knows he’s up to something, keeps looking at him funny, but doesn’t question it.

They sit together on Karkat’s respiteblock floor and try out different foods from the selection of alchemized shitty fake American- Chinese that Dave was so insistent they had to have.

Jade keeps saying they’re abusing their alchemizing powers too much, but she’s one to talk, practicing on making mango-lime combinations for like, a week.

But since Dave made a truckload of food and everyone is a little too hesitant to eat it because even he acknowledges how god awful it is, John and Karkat have taken the majority of it for themselves.

It all kind of sucks, but the lo mein is decent so John eats a ton of that. He watches Karkat throw back pieces of something painfully spicy that’s supposed to be general tso’s chicken. He eats it like it’s nothing, licks the sauce off his fingers and shoots John a nasty look when he laughs that he’s like a garbage disposal.

He’s stalling.

Karkat starts to ask him if something is up and John takes the opportunity to poke him in the arm with his plastic spork.

“Are you fucking serious right now?”

“Haha, what? I’m just playing.”

“You poke me with that thing again and you’re going to find it lodged in your chute tomorrow.”

John can’t remember which end of the body the ‘chute’ is on. Either way, he really doesn’t want a spork to be introduced to any of his insides. He turns all utensil-based poking to his food instead.

Karkat asks him if something is up.

He shakes his head and smiles brightly, starts up talking about how he found out that Terezi knows a lot of ways to tie knots, ones he never learned when he was in boy scouts and oh, did he never tell him about that? Well boy scouts is this thing that humans have and it’s like a club just for boys and they learn, you know, survival stuff and, uhh, help out in the community and-

Karkat tells him to cut the crap. He demands to know what’s got John acting weird and when another change in subject is attempted he shows his fangs threateningly.

John gives up with a sigh, setting his food aside. He has to face it sooner or later and apparently now is the time.

He is so insanely scared.

“Well, I was thinking…”

Karkat narrows his eyes at him, tenses like he’s expecting the worst.

“Haha, it’s kind of awkward to say but, I was wondering about um, fetishes and stuff.”

“What?”

Oh man if this is going to be a language barrier situation it’s going to be even more difficult.

“Uhh, like sexual stuff.”

Karkat relaxes a little, stays somewhat on edge, ready to attack with an answer, “What about it?”

John shrugs, “Just, I don’t know…I was wondering if you had any, umm, kinks or anything.”

Wow it feels weird discussing this so casually. He’s pretty sure this isn’t how you’re supposed to do these things.

“If I have any kinks.”

“…yes?”

“Why, do you?”

John’s shoulders slump and he pouts at the troll, “That’s not fair, I asked you first!”

“But if you brought it up you must have a reason.”

John can feel his cheeks heat up a little, “No…”

“You’re a fucking liar, Egbert.”

“Maybe…”

“So what the fuck is it? What are you getting at?”

Dammit. He’s got this all turned around so John has to be open and honest. So not fair.

“Umm.”

“Spill it, asshole!”

“Jeez, you don’t have to yell! I just…I mean, I do have kind of a…thing. But it’s embarrassing so I was trying to, you know, bridge the subject. Like, in a casual way.”

“Yeah, really fucking smooth.”

John keeps on pouting until Karkat rolls his eyes.

“God, fine, what? You want me to dress up like a hopbeast when we fuck or something?”

John takes a moment to figure out what he means, another to imagine Karkat in cute little fluffy bunny ears, and then he laughs.

“Aw man, no way! I couldn’t take you seriously!”

Karkat’s cheeks go all red and he might explode if John doesn’t give him a proper answer soon.

“Sorry, sorry,” John says, trying to appease him, “Um, no, I don’t want you to dress up in anything…I mean, unless you want to for some reason. I’m okay with whatever just…” He takes in a breath, lets it out slowly, “Oh man, it sounds so weird, haha…” He looks up at Karkat and the troll’s eyes are fixed squarely on him, eager for an answer, “I really like it when you cry.”

There. It’s out in the open. And though crawling under the nonexistent rug and hiding is the first thing on his mind, John does the right thing and looks Karkat in the eyes, forces an awkward, slightly apologetic smile.

“What?”

He flinches.

“You like it when I cry? The fuck Egbert. Is that why…” Karkat trails off mid sentence and his eyes shift as John is looking into them, almost like a pinwheel turning, pupils shrinking and the red in his irises seeming to intensify, “You were doing that on purpose.” John flinches again, feeling sick at how stunned and maybe a little horrified Karkat sounds, “You sneaky fucking nookstain! You were making me cry on purpose!”

“Well I didn’t actually make you cry, I wouldn’t do that-“

“You made me cry!”

“No, no, I just got sad movies so um, so you’d cry, wow, I really suck, I’m so sorry-“

“What the fuck, John?”

John can’t take it. He puts his head in his hands, cheeks burning in humiliation, groans, “I’m sorry…”

Karkat sucks in a sharp breath like he’s gearing up to tear into him, really rip him to shreds, but he stays quiet for a while and when he finally speaks it’s quiet,

“Why would you do that?”

John cringes into his palms, shrugs his shoulders, “I just…you look good when you cry and…it-it’s a turn on. I guess.”

“But who wants to make their matesprit cry? You’re supposed to stop them from crying!”

“I know,” John says miserably.

“Well then what…why…fuck. Fuck, John, what the fuck.”

He’s taking it badly. This is all going wrong. John is going to spend the night listening to Dave mess with his turntables and feeling sorry for himself and he’s never going to get to hold Karkat ever again.

Fingers brush his, grasp his hands and pry them gently away from his face. He looks up, expression drawn, and meets Karkat’s eyes again.

“Explain it to me,” Karkat says, stern but not angry at least, “Tell me why you want to make me cry.”

John swallows hard, shakes his head slightly and Karkat won’t let go of his face, “I don’t want to make you cry! Not really…I…I love you. I really, really love you, you know that right? And I’d never want to hurt you or upset you, but when I see you crying it just…does something to me. I just want to touch you and cuddle you and like, touch you in other ways. Um.”

Karkat doesn’t look any closer to understanding, brow furrowed and mouth frowning slightly.

“It’s hard to explain…”

“Clearly,” Karkat says, a little dryly and it cuts John deeply.

“I’m sorry! I’m really sorry Karkat, I tried to ignore it but..I just…I’m sorry. It’s really awful of me to, to use you like that. Just because something turns me on doesn’t mean I should make you feel bad and, and I’m sorry because it was really inconsiderate and just…horrible. I’m the worst boyfriend in the universe.”

Karkat’s lips brush his forehead before he can even finish speaking, and once he does stop talking those lips are on his, kissing him softly.

It’s hard to kiss someone and be miserable at the same time, but John gives it his best shot.

“In every other respect you’re disgustingly perfect,” Karkat says when he leans away again, still cupping John’s face in his hands, “So I guess you’re allowed to have one fucked up thing that I don’t get.”

“I’m sorry,” John says again, and Karkat shushes him.

“Stop apologizing. You already did that. Tell me why you like it when I cry.”

The stern expression is fading a little, making way for cautious curiosity.

“Well…” John hesitates, still, but when Karkat’s hands press at the sides of his face insistently he starts talking, “It’s like, when I see you crying I want to protect you, sure. But you just look so cute and…and the sounds you make…it’s really adorable and I guess my brain maybe translates protection into making you feel good? Or something? I don’t know. I just like seeing you cry, and wiping up your tears and, uhh….well, I mean, you know what I did.”

Karkat nods slowly, maybe understanding a little.

“But I don’t want to make you cry!” John insists, reaching out to rest his hands on Karkat’s waist, holding on to him, “I feel really terrible any time I make you upset.”

“So,” Karkat says, rolling the word over his tongue slow, considering, “If I was crying for some other reason and then you got to watch me or look after me or whatever…you’d be happy?”

More than happy, he’d be all kinds of hot and bothered and moved and just so excited.

“Well, yeah, but I don’t want you to be upset just for me-“

Karkat takes one hand off his cheek to signal that he should stop talking, “Just trying to wrap my head around this.”

John nods, keeping quiet.

After a minute or two Karkat kisses him again, soft and careful, and they resume their earlier positions sitting next to each other on the floor.

John starts picking at his food again, not sure how to feel.

Eventually Karkat clears his throat, shrugs his shoulders, “I guess it could be worse.”

John raises his eyebrows at him, only half-convinced that this still can’t go horribly wrong, “…yeah.”

“If my crying really gets you off so much I don’t mind doing it.”

“Karkat, you don’t have to-“

“I want to. If you like it.”

“…I don’t know.”

“As long as you keep your glasses on.”

“What?”

“When we have sex. Keep your glasses on. Every time.” Karkat gives him one of the most serious looks he has ever received, “I like it when you leave them on.”

Slowly, unsurely, a smile works its way onto John’s face, “Okay…okay, yeah, I can do that.”

“And maybe,” Karkat says sort of flippantly, “If you want, it wouldn’t fucking kill you to maybe be more vocal. Because believe it or not I like to know that you’re enjoying yourself when I’m fondling your freakish human parts. If that’s not too much to ask.”

John’s smile breaks into a full grin as they scoot closer together, sit so their folded legs make a circle between them. They point out all their favorite parts of each other, mention a few sensitive spots they might not have known about (the base of John’s spine, the space between Karkat’s horns,) and poke fun at each other for being closet perverts. They talk about the possibility of sexy roleplay and decide that it would just be frustrating, and that John couldn’t act his way out of a paper bag, so never mind.

They talk well into the time they should be asleep, and then they give up on ever sleeping and watch a movie instead.

Juno, Karkat’s pick, not John’s.

They cuddle on the floor and watch it on Karkat’s freaky crab leg computer, picking at the alchemized Chinese again when they start to get hungry.

Karkat asks what the fuck kind of slang the characters are using and John is kind of at a loss.

He murmurs the words to ‘Dearest’ into Karkat’s ear as the song plays in the background of the film, stares in awe when Karkat says the song sounds familiar, that he’s heard something like it, and begins speak-singing in Alternian which is so cool and a little funny.

They watch Juno MacGuff have a baby and Karkat loses it, not even completely understanding the biology of what’s going on but seeing Ellen Page in pain, in love with an infant she’s not keeping, giving him up and taking Michael Cera’s hand and singing and it’s just a wave of tears.

He looks at John all bleary eyed and pink faced like ‘this, seriously, this is what you’re into?’ and John moves up close so that Karkat can feel the press of his erection against his thigh, laughs in embarrassment and kisses his cheek, tasting tears.

They rut against each other well past the end of the credits, rolling over and then over again until Karkat is straddling John’s midsection, leaning in close to hold his face, grip his hair and kiss him hard, let the tears slip off his own cheeks and fall onto John’s skin.

They test out all of their most sensitive spots and John keeps his glasses on.


End file.
